Deadly Memories
by mahaliem
Summary: Future Xander, haunted by the past, must save the world. Now Complete!
1. Default Chapter

Title:          Deadly Memories

Author:      mahaliem

Rating:       R

Summary:  Prequel to "Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire" Future Xander, haunted by the past, must save the world.

Disclaimer:  Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy

Thank you to Alena for beta reading this for me.  Any errors remaining are entirely my fault.

_A good memory can be more painful than a bad one.  It reminds you of what you no longer have, what you no longer are.  A remembrance of a lost friend's shy smile can cause a wrenching of the gut.  The memory of heaven can sink you into hell._

_                                                - **Life, Death, and Other Things I'm Not Very Good At **_

****_by A. L. Harris   _

Part 1

I'd gone into the alley behind the bar to vomit out most of the alcohol in my stomach.  It wasn't the classiest thing I'd ever done, but it wasn't the worse thing, either.  Not by a long shot. 

I stood there, wiping my chin with a wadded up napkin I'd found in my pocket, and felt slightly more alive than I had five minutes earlier, when I heard footsteps coming from behind me.  I turned and spied three figures walking towards me.  The darkness and my blurry eyesight made it difficult to see anything clearly, but then one of the approaching figures passed through a thin strand of light that had crawled its way out of one of the buildings, and I glimpsed yellow eyes.  

Yellow eyes meant vampires.  Vampires meant death.  Death meant I didn't have keep waking up each morning, wondering why I was still around, while so many of my friends weren't.  Death…death was good.  Going out fighting…even better.

I should have been killed ages ago by vampires, like Jesse was.  Would've been if Buffy hadn't moved to Sunnydale.  Now, years later, it looked like my fate had finally caught up with me.  Well, it was about damn time.  

Of course, I wasn't going to make things easy for them.  I was too stubborn for that.  Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed the pencil that I carried to write down any info about part-time jobs I heard about.  I didn't carry paper, since I tended to use bar napkins.  _Oops.  I looked down at the recently used and discarded napkin now littering the asphalt, then shrugged my shoulders.  If I died tonight, I wouldn't need the job anyway.   _

"Well, lookee here.  Seems as if this fellow just lost the contents of his stomach.  Made a quite a mess.  Wonder if he'll make as much of a mess when he loses the content of his arteries?"

My eyes were closed as I leaned against the brick wall for support, still gripping the pencil tightly, while the vamps neared.  I would have one shot, if I was lucky.  And there were three of them.  Doubted if they made No. 2s tough enough for the kind of abuse I was about to put it through.  

The lead vamp was closing the distance between us, laughing at my helplessness.  I felt his hands grab my shoulders and pull me roughly against his dead body.  It was when his fangs grazed my skin that I acted.  Swinging my arm around him, I thrust my stubby pencil into his back and through his heart.  Only after I felt the dust settle over me, did I open my eyes and attempt to ready myself for my next opponent.  I could feel a slight sticky warmth trickle down the side of my neck where the ex-vampire had sliced into it, but I did my best to ignore it.  The next one wasn't going to be so easy.

He was livid, snarling in rage that I'd killed his friend.  He slammed a fist into me and I fell to the pavement.  He took the opportunity presented to stomp on my hand, breaking my grasp upon my meager weapon as well as at least one bone.  When he kicked me in the side, I was a little glad that I'd already puked, because if I hadn't, now would've been the time.  I lay there for a moment, panting.  

He was pulling his foot back to have another go at me, when I heard a female's voice call out an order, high and harsh.

"Don't touch him."

"He killed Kevin.  He's gonna hurt till he prays that I tear out his throat."

Another kick landed on me, and I let out a sharp yelp of pain as I felt a rib shatter.  Curled into a ball, expecting another blow to land, I was shocked when the vampire attacking me exploded, sending a shower of particles over me.  

Blinking wildly, I looked up.  The female vampire was only a few feet away from me and I could see her face.  

"Drusilla?"

Her eyes glittered madly as she smiled down at me.

"I told him not to touch you, Kitten.  Need you to save the world, I do."

 * * * * *

Waking up in a bed, I gasped as the pain in my side hit me.  Gasping meant I was breathing, and breathing meant I was alive.  Still.  

I took a quick survey of my surroundings.  The only illumination in the room was a couple of candles, one on a chest of drawers and another on the nightstand beside me.  The lack of light caused deep shadows to collect in the corners and the far sides.  There didn't appear to be any windows, though there was a door.  

I started to ease out from under the covers to make my way to the door when I realized something and stopped.  I was naked.  Not only naked, but after giving myself a discreet sniff, clean, too.  Panic clawed at my mind.  While I'd been out, someone had stripped and bathed me.

Okay, I could deal with this, and I would.  Just as soon as my brain stopped running around screaming in a high, yippy voice.  _Focus, Harris, focus_.  There were sheets on this bed.  Sheets I could use to wrap myself in and…hey, they were flannel. Whoever had saved me had flannel sheets…warm and fuzzy and a reminder of visiting Grandma Harris, who always baked the best peanut butter cookies.  Would anything evil use them?  

I heard a humming then, that got louder, closer.   The door opened and Drusilla swayed inside, holding a mug, a bowl, and something else that I couldn't see.  That answered my question.  Evil would use flannel sheets…crazy evil would, anyway.  She placed most of the items she held on the dresser, then swung to face me, her long red velvet dress swirling slightly around her ankles.  

"Ooh, Kitten's awake and wants to play."

"Um…Drusilla…where am I?"

She looked at me as if I were the crazy one and sat down next to me, ignoring how I tried to scootch to the other side.

"You're in my bed."

"Yeah…I am.  But what am I doing here?"

"Laying down, which is wrong.  Mummy needs you to sit."

Drusilla started to pull the covers off of me, but I grabbed them before they got past my waist.  Gingerly, I sat up.  A piece of advice – if you're naked and weaponless in a powerful vampire's bed and that vampire asks you to do something, the smartest thing to do is to obey.

I was astounded to discover as I sat, that Drusilla was holding a large roll of coban.  Where she'd gotten the adhesive bandage, I had no idea, and since my head still ached, I decided it was better not to speculate on that subject.  

With more gentleness than I ever thought possible, Drusilla began to wrap my ribs.  Her cool fingers brushed against my flesh as she efficiently wound the bandage around my torso, providing my injured body with needed support.  She leaned close to me as she worked, reaching around me to pass the bandage from one hand to the other.  Her breasts would press against my naked chest as she did so, while her long dark hair caressed my shoulders.        

The male body is really a wonder.  It can be hurt, the adrenaline pumping at the danger that surrounds it, fear oozing from its pores, but it can still manage to get a hard-on.  I was now proof of that.  I tried to hide the effect her closeness was having on me, but the best I could do was to make sure that the covers were bunched in that area.  I didn't want to offend her.  I've thought about what I'd like to see on my headstone lots of times.  One thing I didn't want etched, though, was_ Xander Harris - killed because he couldn't control his prick.  _

She finished up the roll at last, and I let out a small sigh of relief as she straightened away from me.  Smiling, she ran one palm over her handiwork, confirming that the area was completely covered, then looked at me.  I managed to give her a small smile of gratitude.  Suddenly, she whacked me hard on the spot she'd just taken so much care in tending to, and I let out a shriek.  

"Stupid boy.  Mustn't drink the sherry and cordials.  Nasty, smelly stuff."

Boy, that was some technique she had, for trying to stop people from drinking too much.  Made me wonder why people bothered with AA meetings and the Betty Ford clinic when all they really needed was a loony vampire to knock them around.  

Having collapsed on my side, trying hard to control the pain, I shook my head at her.

"Won't touch them again.  Ever.  Learned my lesson."

Pleased at my response, she rose and went to the dresser where she retrieved the mug and bowl.  As she neared, I smelled food and…coffee?  Drusilla had brought me coffee!  I immediately repented all the nasty things I'd been calling her in my head.  She was a goddess, a goddess bearing the miracle created by the combination of coffee grounds and hot water. 

Greedily, I sat back up and reached for the caffeineated goodness.  I noted that it wasn't steaming hot as I wrapped my hands around the mug, but I didn't care.  I didn't even care that she sat back down next to me and petted my hair and hummed happily as I drank.  

When I emptied the cup, she took it from me and handed me the bowl filled with soup.  I was going to refuse it, but a frown began to appear on her face, so I quickly accepted the offering.  Looking down, I noted with relief that the soup appeared to be vegetable.  No unknown meat and its source to worry about, then.       

It was surprisingly good and I soon finished it off, having been much hungrier than I thought.  I handed the dish and spoon to Drusilla, who stood and carried it and the mug back to the dresser.  Returning, she stood over me, a smile on her face.  I tentatively smiled back.  Her smile widened.  A memory stirred, a vague recollection of something she'd said before I'd passed out.  

"Um…what did you mean about saving the world?"

"The world is falling into nothingness."

"And I'm supposed to do something about that?  Sorry, but you've got the wrong guy."

I was getting to the point where my fear was fading and apathy was setting it.  Therefore, it took me totally by surprise when she yanked the covers away from me and wrapped her hand around my cock.  Okay…my apathy just ran away, screaming.  

I'd lost my earlier erection, but as she stroked and pulled, it returned…with a vengeance.  Gathering what little wits I still had, I fought down the hormones that were applauding impending sex, pried her fingers away from me and scrambled to the far side of the bed.  She simply licked her lips and followed.  I scooted farther away.  She laughed and moved closer.  I scooted some more…and promptly fell off the edge of the bed, landing on my rump.  

Drusilla must have thought that this was a wonderful game, because she gleefully lifted her skirts and followed me down to the floor, her slight weight landing on my lower legs, trapping me.  While my upper half twisted and turned, following my brain's order to escape, my lower half was involved in a full-scale mutiny…with my cock leading them.  I tried to push her arms away, but my hands joined the revolt and gripped them tightly instead.    

She enfolded her fist around me, pumping me, and I groaned.  I would've thought that the coolness of the grip would be a turn-off.  Instead, it had the opposite effect.  The temperature difference only heightened my awareness of what was happening.  Made me feel it even more intensely.  Meanwhile, the fingers of her other hand busied themselves with my balls, massaging them, making them tighten, then moved behind them, caressing the sensitive skin hidden there.  

Any pleas I had for her to release me turned into moans and groans.  She seemed to feed on the noises that rose from me, her strokes becoming stronger, her fingers more insistent.   I felt a dampness forming where her soft folds met my thighs, and I realized that Drusilla was not wearing underwear.  That thought made my head swirl.  

Did she ever wear underwear?  All that time while I was in high school, had she been prancing around Sunnydale, threatening us with a bare backside?   Shit.  If she had been, I was glad I'd never known.  My hormones had been on high alert back then, anyway.  Knowing that little factoid might have caused my brain to leak from my ears.

Speaking of leaking, I was more than ready when she moved up my body and lowered herself on me.  Oh God!  I could feel her so damn well as the coolness of her body slid around me, encased me.  My hands moved to Drusilla's hips as I thrust up into her.  She rode me hard, her muscles clenching and releasing me, until nothing existed but where we were joined.  

Luckily, some part of my brain was still functioning, and my hand slipped down between our bodies and started to rub her.  Making the crazy, dangerous vampire come first could be a survival skill.  I figured that my life might depend on it.  Only a few moments of teasing and fondling her sensitive flesh passed, before Drusilla let out a high-pitched cry and I felt her muscles spasm around me.  With relief, I let myself go, thrusting into her until I, too, came with shudders and a shout.

She collapsed on top of me as I lay panting, trying to get my breath back.  I felt Drusilla's long-nailed fingertips play over my chest, drumming on my muscles, skimming over the bandage around my torso, before she laid her hand flat over my heart, which was still pounding furiously.    Lifting her head, she looked at me, wonder spread across her face as she realized how truly alive I was.  My hands moved from where they still rested on her hips to her cheeks, and I caressed their softness.  Then her face shifted, her eyes turned yellow and her fangs emerged.  Whoa.  Way to kill the afterglow. 

I grabbed her shoulders and tried to push her off, but she was too damn strong.  Shit, shit, shit.  She moved up my body, placed her face at my neck and I felt a cool tongue lick the spot where the vampire's fangs had scratched the skin. 

"Drusilla, I'm all for eating and sex, but not this kind of eating."

She giggled.  Then a sharp pain erupted as her teeth pierced my flesh and she began to drink from me.  My last thought before I lost consciousness was that I always knew that being a demon magnet would be the death of me.     

TBC


	2. Part 2

Title:           Deadly Memories

Author:      mahaliem

Rating:       R

Summary:  Prequel to "Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire" Future Xander, haunted by the past, must save the world.

Disclaimer:  Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy

_Think back to your most embarrassing, humiliating moment.  You know the one - we all have them.  The memory that makes you cringe and blood rush to your face, years, decades after the incident.  Got it?  Well, that was my entire high school experience. ****_

_                                                – **Life, Death, and Other Things I'm Not Very Good At**_

_                                                    by A. L. Harris_

Part 2

For the second time in a row, I awoke and marveled that I was alive.  Carefully, I touched the spot on my neck where Drusilla had fed.  The still-forming scabs were smaller than I thought they'd be, and were only slightly sore.  

I glanced around the bedroom.  Drusilla was nowhere to be seen, but I did spy some clothes at the foot of the bed that had to be for me.  Additionally, new tapers had replaced the candles that had begun to flicker low in their holders during our little sex romp.  

Quickly, I rose from the bed.  Too quickly, I realized, as I stumbled a bit, the blood loss kicking in.  I stilled until I felt that passing out was no longer likely, then reached for the clothes and donned them.  They were of good quality, better than what I usually wore, and I wondered whom they'd killed for them.  Fortunately, they were only a little big.  The shoes that were set out were mine, but had been polished to a shine.  I didn't know where the hell I was, but as places to stay went, this wasn't so bad.  My biggest complaint was no bathroom…and that was beginning to be a problem.

I crept to the door and quietly opened it, startling the vampire who stood outside.  He jumped slightly when he saw me poke my head out, and, when I glanced at him, I felt a bit insulted.  Vampires have super-strength, super-speed, and all that, but this one looked like he didn't have 'super' anything.    Also, he reminded me of my Uncle Henry Harris, who was currently a guest of the penal system of the state of New York for bookmaking.  Looking back, I realized that the summer I visited Uncle Henry when I was twelve, and seeing the thugs he hung around with, was actually good preparation for all the demon killing I later did, in Sunnydale.    

Nervously, the vampire dropped the cigarette he'd been smoking, and crushed it under his foot as he eyed me.  With a quick glance down the hallway, he picked the butt up and deposited it in a pocket.  Either we had a vamp here who was opposed to littering or Dru had a thing about cigarettes as well as drinking.  No cigarettes, no drinking…made me wonder how she and Spike had managed to last a century with her opposing two of his favorite activities.  

"Hi.  The name's Leon."

He stuck out a hand for me to shake.  I stared at it.  Self-consciously, he wiped it on his shirt and stuck it out again.  When I still ignored it, he dropped it to his side.

"Bathroom," I snapped.

For a moment, he was confused, then nodded in understanding.

"Sure.  Got one upstairs."  

We began walking down the hallway, turned several corners, went up a flight of stairs, where there were more hallways and more turns.  I soon was completely disoriented.  Occasionally, we passed a door, or another hallway ran off to the side, but we didn't see another person, either living or dead.  We climbed a last flight of stairs and reached what I assumed was the ground level, where we entered what could only be a storeroom for a bar.  The walls were lined with shelves full of liquor bottles, olives, and various other items that I thought that it was better to not look too closely at.  I could hear the clinking of glasses, the din of many conversations, and some non-descript music coming from the next room.

Leon indicated a door to the right.  Inside, I found a cracked sink, a scientific experiment gone bad amount of mold, and, thank God, a working toilet.  When I finished and left the little room, Leon was standing outside, waiting for me.  

He headed for the door that led to the bar, but stopped when he saw that I was hesitating.

"What?" Leon asked.

"Do you think that's a good idea…taking me into what I can only assume is a demon bar?"

"Relax, kid.  Miss Drusilla put out the word that you're her guest.  Not a single floppy hair on your head is to be touched.  Besides, was told I had to feed you."    

He swung the door open and walked through.  Not liking the situation one bit, I followed.  As I entered, conversations halted.  It wasn't just my imagination either.  It got so quiet, that I swore I could hear the chirping of crickets.  Then, I realized the chirping noise was coming from the purple demon on my left, but you get the idea.  

As Leon and I crossed the room and sat at an unoccupied table, the bar patrons stared at me, their gazes filled with both hatred and longing.  It was sort of like being a box of doughnuts at a Weight Watchers' meeting.   Leon motioned to a demon with a tray and she…well, I think it was a she…came over quickly.

"I'll have a glass of AB positive.  As for Mr. Harris, I think there's a meal already warming in the back for him."

"And what would the human liked to drink?" she hissed.

Remembering Dru's 'no sherry and cordials' rant from earlier, I quickly nixed the entire thought of a whiskey from my mind. 

"I'll have a Diet Coke."

"We only have Pepsi."

"Okay…maybe a Diet Pepsi, then?"

With a slight roll of her three eyes, she wrote down my order and walked off.  In the meantime, the talking had started back up around us, but I could tell that I was still a focus of interest.  We were smack dab in the middle of the room, and my attention kept flitting around, trying to see if someone or something had decided to have me with their drink versus pretzels.  Leon noted my nervousness.

"Hey…take it easy.  No one's going to go up against Miss D.  Don't think anyone but the boss would have the balls for it."

"Why?  Why is every so scared of her?"

"Well…speaking for myself, there was a little incident about three months ago.  A fellow got a mite fresh with her...kind of touchy, feely…you know what I mean?"

I nodded, then thought back to what had happened between me and Dru earlier in the bedroom and twitched.

"She messed with him.  Played with his mind.  Next thing you know, the guy was biting off and eating his own fingers, like they were chicken legs or something.  Smacking his lips.  Now vamps tend to enjoy most things - the bloodier the better - but believe me, some of those watching that night tossed their cookies."  

The demon waitress arrived back at our table, set our drinks on coasters as neat as you please, then slapped a plate of food in front of me.  I eyed the meal, then glanced up to see a smirk on Leon's face.

"Hey, what do you know…fried chicken."

I guess he expected me to ignore it, or better yet, bolt from the table.  He didn't know that in the trying-to-gross-out-Xander-Harris category, he was outclassed.  Years ago, I'd had Spike as a roomie.  Chipped Spike, whose only outlet for viciousness had been to torment and annoy me, and one of his absolute favorite methods had been to tell me little stories as I ate.  Leon's smirk turned into surprise as I tore into the chicken, making sure to occasionally lick my fingers in the process.  As Spike would have said, Leon was a wanker.

I'd just finished my meal when a hand closed around me neck, lifting me from my chair.  

"I thought you said I was safe!" I yelled at Leon.  

Leon simply shrugged.  

"I said no one but the boss would have the balls to go up against Miss Dru.  Meet the boss."

The vampire who held me must have been almost seven feet tall, and topped the scale at three hundred pounds.  He pulled me close to his face, his yellow eyes studying me, raking up and down my length, while my toes dangled in a failed attempt to find the floor.  

"So…you're Xander Harris."

He glared at me.

"Don't see the attraction.  'Course, I haven't tasted you yet."

Twisting my head to one side, he started to pull my neck towards his mouth, when Drusilla's petulant tone rang out.

"No, Marvin.  Mustn't play with Kitten.  Now, put him down for Princess."

Marvin?  This big lug was called Marvin?

Marvin dropped me like a hot potato, and I unceremoniously fell to the floor.  I guess a bit of bruising wasn't that important to Drusilla, for she rushed over to the huge vampire, squealing how pleased she was that he was gentle with her new pet.  Marvin still didn't look too happy.  While Dru rubbed and patted him, he ordered Leon to take me back below.

We were winding our way through the corridors, when my voice kicked back in.

"So…this Marvin.  Is he always in such a pleasant mood, or did I meet him on a good day?"

For a moment, Leon was silent, before answering.

"You can't blame the guy.  He's got a nice set up here.  Good business, respect from the community…he has it all.  Then some human shows up and starts schtupping his girlfriend."

"Schtupping his…what?  Drusilla's his girlfriend?" I shouted.

"Yep."

We'd arrived back at the room, then.  With a mocking salute, Leon turned and left me, while I tried to process the information.  Crazy, deadly Drusilla had declared me hers and her Incredible Hulk of a boyfriend was thoroughly pissed.  Yes, Xander Harris' life was going just as well as it usually did.  

I was so screwed.  

TBC


	3. Part 3

Title:           Deadly Memories

Author:      mahaliem

Rating:       R

Summary:  Prequel to "Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire" Future Xander, haunted by the past, must save the world.

Disclaimer:  Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy

_Memories of actions taken, or not taken, are a special brand of torture.  For the ones that had little or no consequences, there might be only a twinge of regret.  For the slightly larger, 'Dad, I swear that parked car came out of nowhere' type, it's a small splinter, but embed in the skin so deeply it will never be extracted.  Some of my memories are the big, burning hot poker twisting in the intestines kind.   Others are worse._

_                                                  **– Life, Death, and Other Things I'm Not Very Good At**_

_                                                    by A. L. Harris_

Part 3

By the time Drusilla came back to the room, I'd managed to work myself into a frenzy of agitation.  The fact that she immediately flew to my side and looked up at my face with a coy little smile didn't help.  Gently, I gripped her arms and pushed her a few inches away.

"Drusilla, I appreciate the fact that you saved my life; really, I do.  But I've got to go."

"Nooo.  Mustn't go.  Nasty things will happen.  The knight must do battle.  Save the people…even if a princess dies."

"And I'm the knight?  Don't think so.  I'm not saving anyone."

"But I saw it.  The seer will see no more.  Blood will be consumed - the murderous child, the virgin crone, and the hopeless man. Then the future, present, past is no more."  

Exasperated, I glared at her.  

"Don't you understand?  I. Don't. Care.  I'm not your 'kitten' and I'm not your 'knight', either.  I'm just a guy who hasn't managed to die yet."

She backed away from me, her eyes hardening, her voice low, but filled with venom when she spoke. 

"Go, then.  Leave.  Run from destiny."

"I will!"

I stomped to the door, making sure to slam it as I left.  Within a few minutes, I was back, feeling a bit sheepish.

"Drusilla, would you mind showing me the way out?"

* * * * *

Back at my place, I showered and napped for a couple of hours.  Somehow, being unconscious really isn't all that restful.  When I woke back up, I dressed, fixed myself some coffee and toast, and turned on the television.  It was good to be home.  Even if home was a pit.  

Uncle Rory had lived here for a few years, before dying and leaving all of his worldly possessions to his favorite and only nephew.  Me.  The house wasn't much - a bedroom, bath, and kitchen, but there was a huge room out front.  Someone in the past had gotten the not-so-bright idea to knock down the walls between the living area and the attached garage.  I don't know why they'd done it, but Uncle Rory had used that part of the house as his work area.  

Now, I suppose I'm probably squeamish, but Uncle Rory had been a taxidermist, and the whole thought of the cleaning and stuffing dead animals only yards from where you slept gave me a serious case of the wiggins.  As I sat at the kitchen table, the television flickering in front of me, I could see a few of his projects still littering the tables in the other room.  Sometimes, I even imagined that the stuffed heads and animals watched me contemptuously as I wandered around my home.    

My eyes lit on a longhaired black cat that someone had hired Rory to stuff, probably in a fit of grief, since grief can sometimes make you do the wacky.  They'd obviously gotten over it pretty quickly, though, because they'd failed to return and pick it up.  I should give it to Drusilla, I thought.  With that whole kitten thing of hers, she'd probably love it.  And Lord knows she couldn't be trusted with a live pet.

Damn.  I had to stop thinking about her.  Had to stop thinking about what she'd said.  I wasn't a world savior.  Except for that time with Willow and the yellow crayon, I never had been.  I'd left the rough stuff to Buffy and the others.  Maybe that's why I was still alive.    

It was then I realized that I hadn't woken up screaming and sweating, pawing at the sheets from the nightmares that had snuck up on me while I slept, and taken over.  This time, there'd been no images of blood that were burned into my mind, no sounds of screams ringing in my ears until I wished for deafness, no pain clawing at my insides, twisting my guts with the knowledge that I'd failed them all once more.    

Standing, I went to a cabinet drawer and pulled it open.  There lay the orange jar filled with pills they'd given me for my injuries.  I'd saved them, hoarded them for a day when the pain of living might be too much for me to endure.  I twisted open the lid and gazed at the rattling tickets to oblivion.  After a few quiet moments, I did, as I'd always done so far.  I put the lid back on, returned the container to the drawer, and closed it.

I wasn't paying too much attention to the television, so when the anime show ended and the news came on, I didn't switch channels.  I was still staring into space, contemplating the twists, turns, and huge dips in the road my life seemed to be taking, when something the newscaster said caught my attention.

"A spokesperson for Juvenile Hall stated that the cause of death is still unknown.  Unnamed sources, however, reported that the victim had multiple stab wounds and most likely died from loss of blood.  There is a supposition that the killing of the thirteen-year old may have been in retaliation for the three gang members the victim was convicted of murdering last year."  

Crap!  What had Drusilla said?  The blood from a murderous child?  Looked like whoever was intent on ending the world had just checked item number one off of their list.  

* * * * *

I stood at the back of St. Mary's Catholic Church on 5th Street and Cortez, and waited for the mass to end.  You'd think that churches would make me feel safe, since it was a place that vampires and demons rarely ventured.  Instead, they gave me the chills.  All those saints looking down on me made me feel like I'd never be good enough for them.  The crucifixion was worse, creating a horrible welling of guilt and resentment in me.  He died for my sins?  Did anyone ever hear me ask him to do that?

The congregation, which was almost entirely composed of elderly women with dark scarves covering their gray hair, was filing out, though many took the opportunity to chat with the priest, Father Murry, before leaving.  Father Murry was the epitome of the stereotypical short, kind, grandfatherly priest…as long as that priest was on steroids.  

Yeah, he was short, but his slightly stooped shoulders were broad, and despite the years, he didn't have much fat on him.  Sort of the Jack La Lane of religion.  The kind of priest that would go to his grave wrestling with the devil.  While he was distracted, I took the liberty of filling up a couple of bottles full of holy water to go with the stakes I had in my pocket and hidden in my sleeve.  

When we were pretty much the only two people left, I approached him, still clutching the newspaper obituary column in my hand.  He eyed me with suspicion.  Weren't priests supposed to trust other people?  Wasn't there a rule about that?

"Good evening, my son.  I haven't seen you here before."

"Nope.   First time."

"Hopefully, it won't be your last."

I simply shrugged in reply, in a hurry to get the information I needed.

"I saw in the newspaper that Margaret Catherine Wilson was a member of your congregation before she died."

Lowering his voice and his eyes in sorrow, Father Murry nodded.

"She attended services regularly, health permitting.  Such a tragedy.  One would think that after living to see one hundred and five, the end would be peaceful.  To die so violently…how horrible for her."

"Yeah.  It sucks.  But you were her confessor, right?  The one who knew her best?"

Again, the priest nodded.

"All of her relatives had died off, or moved away.  She never had any children of her own."

"So, since you knew her so well…you'd know if she was a virgin or not."

The fist came out of nowhere, knocking me to the marble-tiled floor.  Father Murry stood over me, shaking in what he probably considered to be righteous rage.         

"Get out of my church!"

"Jesus Christ!  You hit me!"

"Blasphemer!  Get out now, or as God is my witness in this holy place of his, I'll hit you again!"

I scrambled to my feet.  

"Fine.  You can keep hitting me all you want.  I can take it.  But I still need to know if she was a virgin."

The priest swung his fist again, but this time I was ready, and managed to block it.  When he threw another punch, I grabbed his arm and yanked it hard, causing him to lose his balance and tumble to the floor.

"Damn it!  Tell me!  Was she a virgin?  I'm trying to save the world here!"

"Save the world?  You?" he asked in amazement, his anger fading.

"That was my reaction, too.  Not a Slayer or a Watcher, and definitely not a champion.  No magical powers whatsoever, but I'm the one picked to do the deed."

Father Murry stared at me for a moment, assessing me, before wearily rising to his feet, and I felt a little guilty.  He was an old man, after all.  But I shook off the feeling…he'd started it first, and my jaw still ached.  He didn't look like he was readying to attack again, but I took a couple of steps back, just in case he changed his mind.  His eyebrow arched as he studied me in my t-shirt that had seen better days and my paint-spotted sweats.  

"You know of Slayers and Watchers?" 

"Intimately.  Well, really only intimately with one of them…though I was friends with a Slayer and Watcher for years and years.  How do you know about them?"

Sighing, he moved to a pew and sat, easing his body down.  

"My cousin was a Watcher.  He died several years ago, along with the young girl he was training.  Some of the things he used to tell me… He opened my eyes to certain realities of this world that others prefer not to see."

"Oh."  I paused for a moment, before continuing. "Then you'll help me?"

His eyes flickered back over me, and then he turned to study the altar in front of him, avoiding my gaze.

"Margaret Wilson was a fine lady.  She was raised in another era, one much more restrictive than what we live in now.  When she was young, she was engaged, but I believe her fiancé died from influenza a few weeks before the marriage was to take place."

Turning to face me, I could tell he was doing his best not to violate the sanctity of the confessional while aiding me.

"I cannot tell you what you need to know.   I don't know the truth myself."

"But she probably was?"

Reluctantly, he nodded.  Okay.  Now the bad guy had two out of three.  The third was a man without hope.  That wouldn't be much of a hurdle.  You can find one of those in alleys, shelters, and under bridges in any major city these days.  I was going to have to go see Drusilla to find out if she knew of any way to stop this.  I started to leave, but Father Murry reached out and grabbed my hand.  

"Who are you?"  

"No one special.  Just a carpenter."  

Father Murry smiled, then.  The warmth spread, and his eyes softened and became kind before I turned away. In a voice just a little above a whisper, he called to me as I walked towards the exit.

"Let me know if you ever need my help.  I have a special fondness for carpenters."

* * * * *

I returned to the bar where Drusilla lived.  It was called _The King of Cups and was definitely in the sleazier part of town.  There was a parking lot in front of it, but it was pretty much empty.  I guess most demons and vampires weren't big on cars._

When I walked in, Marvin and Leon were standing next to the bar.  They didn't move when they saw me, so I went over to them.

"Xander, you shouldn't be here," said Marvin, through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, you might give this place a bad reputation," added Leon.

"I need to talk to Drusilla."

Marvin moved so that he was just inches away.  I was forced to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"You can't see her."

"Who's going to stop me?  You, Marvin?"

"Hey," interjected Leon.  "She's not here.  We don't know where she is."

"She's not here?"

Oh, crap.  The 'seer will see no more' bit.  That must have meant Drusilla.  I was starting to panic.  When I panic, it's not pretty.  I flail about, my voice gets high and screechy, and I usually end up doing something stupid.  This time was no exception.

"Well, you can find her, right?" I squeaked.  "Track her down by her scent or something?"

"And why should I do that, boy?"

Okay, here was where the doing something stupid part began.  I don't know if it was the way Marvin was looking down on me; I don't know if it was the thought of impending doom, and I don't know if this had just been a bad twenty-four hours - a real Jack Bauer kind of a day.  But, I lost it.

"Don't call me 'boy'!"  

Putting my hands on Marvin's chest, I shoved him as hard as I could, causing him to stumble back a few steps.  When he straightened up, he looked furious, but I didn't care.

"I've fought alongside the Scourge of Europe, was roommate to William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, was, for a brief period, Dracula's butt monkey, and recently, as I'm sure you're aware of, had a fling with Drusilla.  I was there when the Slayer smashed the Master's bones.  I was there when the Slayer defeated a hell god. And I was there when the Mayor ascended and screwed up graduation day, which I'm still pissed about because I worked my ass off to pass those stupid classes.  I've faced down a witch bent on ending the world, jilted a vengeance demon at the altar, and hosted my parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party.  I may be a hell of a lot of things, but I am not a boy!" 

Whoa, talk about calling attention to yourself.  Every eye in the bar was on me.  I took a deep breath, and lowered my voice to a tense harshness.

"Now, are you going to help me find Drusilla or not?"      

"No."

I swung my fist at him.  He must have thought I was going to hit him, because he just stood there with a big smirk on his face.  When I slipped the stake hidden in my sleeve into my hand, that smirk disappeared into a big cloud of dust.

"The boss!  You killed him!" cried Leon.

"Guess what…you've just been promoted," I snarled.

The smarmy vampire just stared at me, mouth agape.  I turned my attention on him fully, and he took a couple of steps back.

"Here's the $64,000 question, Leon.  Are you going to help me find Dru?"

"Sure, sure, whatever you say."

The bar was as still and silent as a tomb when Leon and I left, letting the door close behind us with a bang.    

TBC


	4. Part 4

Title:           Deadly Memories

Author:      mahaliem

Rating:       R

Summary:  Prequel to "Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire" Future Xander, haunted by the past, must save the world.

Disclaimer:  Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy

There are people for whom the walk down memory lane is pleasant, where they greet old friends and reminisce on good times.  For others, it is walking on coals, searing hot.  Only by continuing to move forward, not dwelling too long at any spot in our past, and hardening ourselves to the burning pain are we able to go on with our lives.

_                                                  **– Life, Death, and Other Things I'm Not Very Good At**_

_                                                    by A. L. Harris_

Part 4

Leon led me to an abandoned building not far from the bar.  In many cities, this would have attracted homeless people, runaways, drunks, or junkies.  None were around.  Demons and vampires do tend to keep that part of the population down.  My hometown of Sunnydale had been outstanding in its lack of vagrants.  

I told Leon to leave.  I couldn't trust him to watch my back; he might even attack it, himself.  It'd be safer if he wasn't there.  

It was a big building, lots of floors, but I figured there were two places that were most likely – the basement or the roof.  I started at the basement, crept around the corners, searched all of the nooks and crannies…nothing.  It had to be the roof.  

Reaching the top floor via the staircase, I began searching for the roof access.  I thought I'd spotted it when I felt a blast of magic lift me off of my feet and hurl me through the air.  I crashed into a wall and crumpled to the ground in a heap.  Raising my head, I spied a man.  He was dressed in a blue suit and looked like your normal, average everyday Joe…except for his red glowing eyes, that is.  

I managed to pull myself up, using the wall for support, but when I took a step forward, I was pinned back against the wall.  The sorcerer came closer to look me over.  It was time for me to attack, but since the only thing I could move was my mouth, I started talking.  

"So…you're going for an apocalypse.  Any particular reason?  Did you lose your job…your girlfriend…your mind, maybe?"

"You could never understand my reasoning."

"Try me.  People always said I was a real good listener.  Maybe you've just had a bad day.  I know bad days.  You think 'hey, I'll just end the world'.  But, you know, tomorrow, everything might seem a little brighter."

"I'm not going to end the world."

"You're not?  Good.  Not ending the world is good."

"I'm going to obliterate it.  Erase it.  Make it so that the world never existed.  That none of us ever existed."

I stood there, stunned.  Ending the world was one thing.  I could kind of understand the whole "I want to end it all" bit.  But making it so that the world had never been…that was just…wrong.  That would mean that everything that I'd fought for with Buffy and the gang would never have meant anything. It would have never happened.  

I had some good memories and some bad memories.  I had memories that still made me laugh when I looked back on them, and others that had me gasping in pain.  For some of my friends, all I had left were the memories.  No one was going to take them away.  No one.  

This bastard was going down.  I just needed to figure out how.

* * * * *

Mr. Obliterate the World commanded me to start marching, and, after some ill-fated attempts to attack him that resulted in me being smashed against walls and pillars, I did as he wanted.  We came to a shimmering door, surrounded by magic.  With a wave of his hand, the magic was whisked away, and he ordered me to go inside.  After I entered, the door closed and the barrier reformed.  I wasn't sure what he was waiting for – midnight, the moon to rise, planets to align…who knew?  But, the important thing was that whatever he was planning on, it wasn't happening yet. 

I turned around and got my first good look at my prison.  I thought at first that I was alone, but I spied a small figure huddled in the corner.  When I started towards it, it curled into a ball.  It was only when I was about three feet away that I realized the figure was Drusilla. 

Her cheeks were tear-stained, and she whimpered a bit when I reached out to touch the tracks they'd made on her face.  

"Drusilla?  Did he hurt you?"

Her eyes widened as she stared at me in surprise.  She trembled a little as she spoke.

"Sir?  You know who I am?"

"Of course I know you.  Much better now than I did a few days ago, to be sure, but…wait. You don't remember me?"

She timidly shook her head. 

"No, good sir.  You, as well as this place, are unfamiliar to me."

"Did you bang your head or something?"

"I don't know.  I seem to have suffered no apparent injury."

"Okay, you don't remember me. Do you remember Angel or Spike?  Come on, you have to remember Spike; you guys were together forever."

Drusilla simply continued to shake her head in bewilderment.  

"Then, what's the last thing you do remember?"

She licked her lips a little before replying to my question with shy, downcast eyes.

"I remember going to the market with Mother.  We were walking, for Father had taken the carriage to fetch my cousins for the party we're planning for little Anne's birthday."

"What?"

"She's turning twelve, and feeling quite grown up.  But the sun was terribly bright, and my head began to ache."

"And that's all you remember?"

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be of more assistance to you, sir."

I grabbed her arm, and she let out a small cry.  Her skin was still cool to the touch, and I felt no pulse at her wrist.  She was still a vampire…no doubt about it.  Somehow, though, Magic Guy had suppressed her demon and her memories.  Sucked her back to the time before Angelus had killed her - even before she'd started having visions.  

He'd blinded her.  Caused the seer to see no more.  I'd been thinking it was going to be literally.  But this bit of mojo meant she could no longer see the future.  No longer see a future he was intent on making sure never happened. 

I released her wrist, and she quickly pulled her arm back, rubbing it where my grip had been too tight.

"I'm sorry, Drusilla.  I didn't mean to hurt you."

She gave a small nod, but stayed in her corner.  I looked around the room we were trapped in, and spotted a boarded up window.  Drusilla had the strength to break through, but in her current incarnation, I doubted that I could convince her to attempt it.  If we managed to open it up, it would be too far for me, but she would have no problem making the jump.  But again, I didn't think I'd manage to get her to try that little stunt.  

Drusilla was watching me closely as I pulled a bit at the boards, testing them.  I felt her eyes follow me when I went to the door and poked at the barrier, getting thoroughly zapped in the process.  Turning back to face her, I tried a smile, and, after a moment, she tentatively smiled back, before a casting her eyes back to the floor.  Dru certainly had been a shy little thing, before she'd been turned.  Kind of sweet, too.   But I didn't need sweet, innocent, sane Drusilla.  I needed her back the way she should be…psycho and psychic.

I've done some bad things in my life, things I'm not very proud of.  I was now about to do one of the worst ever.  Unfortunately, it was the only way I could think of saving the world.

Moving closer so that I was standing near her, I began the torment.  

"Little Anne's dead, Drusilla."

She looked at me, her face shocked, and she started shaking her head.

"No.  It can't be.  She was fine when we left home."

"Anne was killed.  Raped and killed."

Tears began to pour down her face, but she continued to deny it.

"No.  You're lying."

"Your mother's dead, too.  Also raped and killed.  Your father…he had his throat torn out."

She let out a wounded cry and began to sob heavily, dropping to the floor in her grief.  I couldn't let her block me out, so I grabbed her by her arms, pulled her back to a stand, and braced her against the wall.   This way, she could see my face when I told her everything.

"You're cousins, your aunts, your uncles…all dead.  They died horrible, painful deaths, and do you know why?"

She shook her head, closing her eyes, but I gripped her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at me. 

"Because of you."

The wail of sorrow and horror that flew from her throat would've melted the heart of a dead man.  She trembled and quivered, but I wasn't through.

"It was your fault.  You bewitched someone…and he had to have you.  So, he eliminated your family, one by one.  And how do you think you repaid this murderous beast?"

She was gasping, panting, but she stared at me, through her tears, hating the truth, fearing the truth, but needing to know.  Shit.  This was so hard.  I wanted to stop and pull this hurt girl to me, to protect her and soothe her.  Resolutely, I continued torturing her.

"You called him 'Daddy'…the man who killed your father."

The shriek that emerged was sharp, jagged.

"You kissed him, kissed the mouth that drank the blood of your mother."

Drusilla was keening now, in pain.  Despite my tight grip on her, she was flailing.  She didn't know enough to access her vampire strength, but she was definitely making me struggle a bit to keep hold of her. 

"You writhed and thrashed under his body, welcoming it into yours…the body that raped your sister."

"No!" she cried.  "I'm a good girl.  I wouldn't."

"You're not a girl, Drusilla.  Haven't been for a long time."

Blank, uncomprehending eyes met mine.  She didn't understand. I loosened my grip on her.

"Your skin…touch me, feel how warm I am, how cool you are."

She made no move to comply, so I grabbed her hands and forced them to my face, then to hers.  

"Pulse and heartbeat…you don't have them."

She moved her palm to her chest, and felt, and felt, and felt.  With a cry, she fell to her knees and began to pray, fervently.

"Don't bother.  He doesn't listen to your kind."  

I scrapped at the scars on my neck, opening them up so that they began to bleed freely. Swiping my hand along them until my fingers were drenched, I then held them out towards her.  With one hand, I forced her mouth open, then stuck my blood-covered fingers in her mouth, making her taste it, swallow it, before releasing her.

"Blood's what you eat.  You've killed thousands for it.  You're a monster.  A soulless monster."

I leaned down and grabbed her wet cheeks in my hands, my fingers leaving bloody stripes on her skin, and thrust my face within inches of hers.

"And you're going to hell."

A loud noise sounded behind me, startling me, and causing me to lower my hands and turn from Drusilla, who collapsed.  The barrier had dropped, and the sorcerer entered, holding a jar whose contents spluttered and splattered red droplets on the floor.  He glanced at where I stood, but quickly dismissed me as unimportant as he headed towards where Drusilla lay, in a heap on floor.  She'd stopped crying, stopped making any noise, she'd stopped moving entirely.  If I hadn't known better, I would've thought that she'd died from a broken heart.  The magician waved his hands in the air over her form.     

"Come, my dear.  It is time."

There must have been a compelling spell in his words, for, with trembling limbs, Drusilla rose and began to follow him.  He turned his back on her to lead her out of the room, to wherever he'd planned to do the actual ceremony.  Probably the roof, I thought.  The world was about to be erased, and once again, I'd failed.  Well, before it all went away, I had one last thing I had to do.  

"Drusilla?" I whispered. "I'm sorry."

The sorcerer paused, unsure as to why I was apologizing to her.  In a flash, Drusilla tore open his throat and drank down his blood before he was able to conjure up a spell to repel her.  My mouth was still gaping open like a fish as she dropped his lifeless body onto the floor, and turned to face me, her yellow eyes glowing, her fangs dripping.  

"Whatever for, Kitten?"

Crazy Drusilla was back and the world was saved.  But I couldn't celebrate.  I was too busy mourning the loss of an innocent girl.  

* * * * *

I stood in the kitchen, looking out at the tables of dead things that were arrayed around the front room.  It was really high time I threw out most of this stuff.  All this space, it would probably make a pretty good workshop.  I'd always wanted to create beautiful, but functional things for a living.  It was about time I started.

Opening up the cabinet drawer, I pulled the orange jar of pills out, twisted open the lid and stared at them.  There were all still there, little, white oblong objects that promised no pain…but something had changed.  The lure was no longer there.  Moving to the sink, I tilted the jar and watched them roll, bounce and tumble onto the stained porcelain, before spinning down the drain.  When the last of them disappeared, I took a deep breath and turned away.  

A small noise came from the bedroom.  Drusilla must be awake.  After we'd left the building where we'd been trapped, instead of taking her back to the bar, I'd brought her home.  It was the least I could do.  

When I entered my bedroom, I noted two things.  First of all, the stuffed cat I'd given her earlier was clutched tightly in her arms.  She'd been delighted with my gift.  The second item was much more heartbreaking.  On her cheek, a tear was rolling down.  

"Dru…are you feeling okay?"

For a moment, there was only silence; then, I heard her whispered reply.

"He made me remember."

"That was me, honey."

"No, you made me remember what I am.  He made me remember what I was…and it hurts." 

I gathered her close and rocked her in my arms until sleep once more overtook her.  I'd always been told that vampires were soulless, evil creatures.  But…sometimes I wondered.  Maybe I would go back and talk to Father Murry about it.  Maybe God understood that these creatures were as trapped in their existence as we are in ours, and he'll have mercy on them.  Then maybe…maybe…God will be able to spare a little mercy for me.          

The End

A big thank you to Alena for beta reading this for me.  Also, thank you to everyone who read this and gave me feedback.  I really appreciate your support.  


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